I was taught the world worked like this: you’re either good or bad, right or wrong, in or out.
No gray. No nuance. No space in between.
In the community I grew up in, there were only two kinds of people: those who “belonged” and those who didn’t. You were either part of the group—or a threat to it. And what determined your belonging wasn’t just your behavior, but how closely your beliefs aligned with theirs.
It wasn’t enough to believe in something greater—you had to believe the right way.
Being gay and spiritual? An oxymoron.
Voting for a progressive candidate? A betrayal.
Loving people who lived differently? A dangerous compromise.
I’m not exaggerating.
This kind of worldview trains your brain to think in stark contrasts: black or white, good or evil, worthy or unworthy. It leaves no room for context, compassion, or curiosity.
And that kind of rigidity doesn’t just shape what you believe—it shapes how you live.
We were taught that if something didn’t make sense to us, the problem wasn’t the belief—it was us. Don’t trust your own eyes, ears, or gut. Trust the system. Trust the group. Trust the rules.
When that kind of environment collides with reality—when bad things happen, when people you love don’t fit the mold—it creates a painful kind of mental tension. To survive it, many of us learn to numb, dismiss, or blame. Anything but question.
I remember once being told I must “love killing babies” simply because I no longer leaned conservative. (I’m a mother of five. I would give my life for my kids.) But that’s the kind of twisted logic that flows directly from binary, all-or-nothing thinking.
In that world, it was simple:
Conservative = good.
Liberal = bad.
Straight = good.
Gay = bad.
Follow the rules = worthy.
Question the rules = dangerous.
Conservative = good.
Liberal = bad.
Straight = good.
Gay = bad.
Follow the rules = worthy.
Question the rules = dangerous.
This wasn’t just the narrative I lived under—it was the lens I saw the world through.
But that kind of thinking is damaging. It breeds fear. Judgment. Shame. It stunts growth. It keeps you from asking better questions and from becoming a fuller version of yourself.
And at some point, I had to choose between staying safe in the system—or growing beyond it.
One of the most defining moments came when a loved one told me they’re gay.
They weren’t “choosing” anything in that moment.
I was.
I was.
Would I cling to the old scripts—or would I choose love?
I chose love.
But it wasn’t easy.
It meant confronting the uncomfortable truth that I had absorbed messages that taught me to fear people I didn’t even know. It meant rewiring my mind, thought by thought.
To desensitize myself to the fear I’d internalized, I started following LGBTQIA+ couples online. I watched their joy. Their tenderness. Their ordinary lives. And something in me softened. I began to see clearly—not through the lens I’d been handed, but through the eyes of connection and compassion.
This is what it takes to leave a black-and-white world:
You have to retrain your brain to recognize color, complexity, and nuance.
You have to retrain your brain to recognize color, complexity, and nuance.
And you have to give yourself permission to stay in that middle space—especially when it feels unfamiliar.
Just because someone critiques a politician doesn’t mean they idolize another.
Just because someone votes blue doesn’t mean they’re a radical.
Just because someone votes red doesn’t mean they’re hateful.
Just because someone votes blue doesn’t mean they’re a radical.
Just because someone votes red doesn’t mean they’re hateful.
There’s nuance everywhere.
But you have to work to see it.
And most rigid systems—whether religious, political, or social—depend on people not doing that work.
But you have to work to see it.
And most rigid systems—whether religious, political, or social—depend on people not doing that work.
Lazy thinking can’t exist in the gray.
It takes courage, honesty, and emotional flexibility to live there.
And for many of us, those muscles are still waking up.
It takes courage, honesty, and emotional flexibility to live there.
And for many of us, those muscles are still waking up.
Leaving behind binary thinking has been one of the hardest—and most liberating—things I’ve ever done.
I’ve lost friends. Some family relationships will never be the same.
But I’ve also gained something I never expected:
Peace. Integrity. Clarity. Joy.
And a life that feels more honest than ever before.
And a life that feels more honest than ever before.
I was warned that life outside the “rules” would be empty and dangerous.
But what I found was freedom.
And color.
And love.
But what I found was freedom.
And color.
And love.
So what about you? Do you notice places in your life where you’re still holding onto either/or thinking? Maybe about your body, your productivity, your parenting, your worth?
Are you ready to consider that there might be more than two options?
Because here's the truth:
Your nervous system can learn to tolerate nuance.
Your mind can loosen its grip on old categories.
And your heart can lead you toward something gentler and truer.
Your nervous system can learn to tolerate nuance.
Your mind can loosen its grip on old categories.
And your heart can lead you toward something gentler and truer.
The path won’t always be easy. But if you're ready, I believe it will be worth it.
I chose love. I chose growth.
And even with all the loss and discomfort that came with it,
I’ve never once regretted that decision.
I hope you choose love and growth, too.
Because freedom lives in the gray.
And it’s beautiful here.
Because freedom lives in the gray.
And it’s beautiful here.
With love,
Candi D 💕
Candi D 💕
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